“She is Spherical, like a Globe”: Mapping the Theatre, Mapping the Body PAIGE NEWMARK I was directing a scene from Antony and Cleopatra in Colorado a number of years ago, and I had a tremendously difficult time with a small but significant part of the Messenger. As you will recall he returns to Alexandria from Rome and has the unenviable task of telling Cleopatra that Antony is married. When he delivers the bad news she becomes furious and gives him the ‘Spartan messenger’ treatment by beating him up. The problem was that however much I berated or cajoled him, the actor would simply stub his cigarette out on the wings, slouch onto stage and deliver his lines in a rather monotonous manner: “Madam, he’s married to Octavia” (2.5.60). In order to overcome his bad acting, I pointed out that the Messenger does not give Cleopatra a written message, but must deliver it verbally. To help the actor get a better idea of the given circumstances of his situation, we looked at a map of the Roman Empire. What we discovered is that it would have taken twenty-three days of hard riding to travel from Rome to Alexandria, or twenty-three days for the Messenger to consider exactly how he was going to deliver his bad tidings. I pointed out that the character has to tell the most hot-blooded, powerful, and jealous woman in the world that her husband, and father of her children, is now married to someone else. The next time that we rehearsed the scene, instead of going through his previous ritual, he changed: he still stubbed his cigarette out on the wings, and he still slouched onto stage; but before delivering his lines he actually took a moment to think about what he was saying – and then delivered them in the same monotonous manner: “Madam, he’s married to Octavia.” My approach failed spectacularly, but my tactic of using the map sparked something in the actor. It also sparked an idea in me: I wondered if Shakespeare ever used maps; if so, how did he use them? And how important were they? Let me tease you with a small taster of what I mean. In The Comedy of Errors Dromio of Syracuse is constantly mistaken for his identical twin brother. The brothers are in fact so alike that Nell, the hugely fat kitchen wench, cannot tell them apart. Consequently she persistently attempts to make love to Dromio (of Syracuse), whether he likes it or not. Intrigued, his master, Antipholus asks Antipholus: What’s her name? Dromio: Nell, sir. But her name – and three quarters, (that’s an ell and three quarters), will not measure her from hip to hip. Antipholus: Then she bears some breadth? Dromio: No longer from head to foot than from hip to hip; she is spherical, like a globe; I could find out countries in her. (3.2.108-113) Shakespeare’s description of Nell was not simply a funny quip; nor was it aberration. Rather it was an exploration in a particular time and a particular place, of a particularly new conceit: “the mapping of the body.” Before venturing any farther into the drama, I shall present some background on the new cartographic culture that made possible the appearance of maps onstage. This will provide a broad cultural framework within which I shall discuss the plays of Shakespeare and some of his contemporaries. How did mapping the body become important? In Shakespeare’s England, interest in maps of the world, and in particular Britain, burgeoned at an exponential rate. In the latter half of the fifteenth century only a dozen maps of England existed; by the first half of the Shakespeare in Southern Africa Vol. 16, 2004, 15-28 16 SHAKESPEARE IN SOUTHERN AFRICA sixteenth century the number had grown to two hundred, while in the second part of the sixteenth century – in other words when Shakespeare was alive – there was an increase to nearly eight hundred maps of Britain and its various parts.1 The explosive development in cartography stemmed from a wider cultural wonder of the Renaissance, the printing press. With its ability to regularly print 1,000 to 1,500 copies at a time, printing meant that a wider dissemination and more extensive use of maps were made feasible. This unprecedented rise in map production heralded a new cartographic awareness. Two sets of maps in particular proved to be highly influential: one was Christopher Saxton’s Counties of England and Wales, which was an atlas published in 1579, when Shakespeare was fifteen years old. The book not only contained separate county maps, but also contained a map of the whole of Britain or Anglia. The map of Anglia was Saxton’s Anglia significant because prior to this, no comprehensive survey of Britain in toto had been undertaken, and no surveys had been produced that had received such a high level of official patronage. Why is that important? Prior to the publication of Anglia, few people had any idea what England looked like, and more particularly, they had no concept of Britain as a cartographic entity. The other set of maps is Ortelius’ Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, which was published in forty-five successive editions between 1570 and 1624. Extrapolating from these numbers, we can see that tens of thousands of copies for each map were produced, which became so accessible that they started to pervade all aspects of society. They were such ubiquitous objects that they became essential tools of government: whether used for local administration or to shape national consciousness, maps were now a mainstay of late Tudor and early Stuart Britain. If we look at Saxton’s maps, one of the first things to notice is that there were no roads on them. This indicates that they were obviously not meant for getting from one location to another, which in turn begs the question: why were they made? On looking at all of the county maps, an interesting feature starts to emerge: there is a recurrent, even systematic, presence of Queen Elizabeth. The first place that Elizabeth’s image dominates is at the very beginning of the atlas on the frontispiece. Secondly, we see that symbols Saxton’s frontispiece of her presence govern each individual map. “SHE IS SPHERICAL, LIKE A GLOBE” 17 Saxton’s Cornwall Nearly every county promoted her royal hegemony: for example if we look at Cornwall, her Royal Coat of arms is both large and prominent, and therefore a strong assertion that the land is hers and hers alone. Within a short time span, evidence shows that other maps propagated Elizabeth’s image as the one and only ruler. For example, John Case’s image of Elizabeth embracing the “sphere of the state” in 1588, shows how a celestial map could be used as an allegory of the benefits of the queen’s rule, and even her godlike aspirations.2 Although celestial maps are not central to my argument, Case’s image highlights the importance of the allegorical maps by symbolizing her dominion over the kingdom, since each sign of the zodiac is related to a quality found in the Queen’s leadership. The concentric spheres have symbols on one side, and a related quality on the other. The centre is the “justitia Immobilis”; the first circle contains “ubertas rerum”; the second “Facundia”; the third “Clementia”; the fourth “Religio”; the fifth “Fortitudo”; the sixth Prudentia”; the seventh “Maiestas”. All this is encircled by a dominant motto “ELISABETHA • D • G • ANGLIAE • FRANCIAE • ET • HIBERNIAE • REGINA • FIDEI • DEFENSATRIX.” Two years later the cartographer Hondius produced his Angliae et Hiberniae which prominently displayed a genealogical table and a portrait of Elizabeth. John Case’s Sphaera Civitatis Hondius’ Angliae et Hiberniae 18 SHAKESPEARE IN SOUTHERN AFRICA Hondius’ Typus Angliae The correlation of the Queen and her descent from William the Conqueror is visible in the top right of the frame, which reflects Elizabeth’s strong assertion of her long-standing claim Munster’s Cosmography to the throne. Her ostentatious alignment with William the Conqueror suggests that she was unsure of her right to the monarchy; another map by Hondius was entitled Typus Angliae (1592), also depicted a strong central image of Queen Elizabeth.3 Her conspicuous placement over Scotland is a clear indicator of her questionable claims to the country north of the border. What we are witnessing is a nascent fusion in imagery between woman and cartography, or in simpler terms, the combination of ‘woman appearing in a map.’ This particular fusion finds its iconographic relevance, when we notice that the same merging proliferates in Europe, at exactly the same time.4 The woman-as-map appears many times in quick succession from Heinrich Bunting’s Europa Prima Pars Terrae in Forma Vrginis in 1581, to the image from Munster’s Cosmography in 1588, and Jacobus Francus’s Het Spaens Europa in 1598. Although each representation is simply a variation on the same theme, the correlation of the map and the Queen has taken a leap from the English counterparts. The difference with the continental examples is twofold: first, where the English models merely suggest a link between woman and maps, the European versions explicitly personify the map as a woman. Secondly, the map renders Europe in the form of a virgin. Earlier I mentioned that the two most prolific and highly influential maps of their day were Saxton and Ortelius. Where the English Saxton depicts a picture of the virgin Queen on the frontispiece of his map book, Ortelius makes the decision to depict personifications of all four continents as virgins on the frontispiece of his Theatrum Ortelius’ frontispiece to Theatrum Mercator’s Atlas Sive Orbis Terrarum.